What Happens in the Host Club, Stays in the Host Club
by StarFormerAdira
Summary: Haruhi discovers that there are still many secrets hidden within the infamous Music Room #3.


**A/N: No, I don't know what I'm doing here, either. I was just sitting in front of my laptop, minding my own business, when a plot bunny stuck its head around the door, screamed at me in Latin and then proceeded to stare at me until I wrote this fic. Not my fault. **

* * *

**What Happens in the Host Club, Stays in the Host Club**

When Haruhi entered the infamous Music Room #3 with a priceless tea set balanced carefully in her hands, she noticed three strange things. First, there was an absence of young, twittering women seated in various places around the space. Two, only Honey, Mori and the twins were present – looking as innocent as ever, eating cake, staring out of the window and reading a comic book together in that order. And three, there was a suspicious banging noise coming from the room next door, occasionally picking up or slowing in rhythm. It sounded like something heavy was continuously being slammed against the wall, like a table or a chair, and interspersed with that was what seemed like somebody in pain.

She turned to the other members of the Host Club for guidance, but none of them offered up any explanations. On closer inspection, however, Haruhi noticed that they looked rather flustered and restless – Mori was constantly opening and closing his fists, and Hikaru's fingers were drumming an incomprehensible pattern on Kaoru's left thigh, which was a strangely private place, in Haruhi's view. They didn't seem to be concentrating on the comic book, either, if their glazed expressions were anything to go by.

"Um...guys?" Haruhi began, her voice timid in the stuffy silence. "Is everything okay?"

"Fine, Haru-_chan_, why do you ask?" Honey replied cheerily, stuffing another slice of cake into his mouth.

"Where's, uh, Tamaki and Kyoya?" Haruhi's eyes were swivelling around the room like the two absentees were hiding behind a couch or something.

Hikaru looked up at her, trying his hardest to stay composed, and nodded towards the direction of the noise. "In there."

Haruhi was about to demand a proper explanation for what was going on when she suddenly became aware that the grunts of pain didn't sound like someone was hurt, precisely. It sort of sounded like...someone who was being pleasured.

She stood rooted to the spot, her hands shaking. "And what – what are they doing in there?" she inquired valiantly, trying to hold onto some of her sanity.

Kaoru rolled his eyes, subtly edging closer to his brother. "What do you think, Haruhi? Isn't it obvious enough?"

Now _two _voices were issuing through the wall, and although Haruhi was extremely reluctant to concentrate on them, she could definitely pick out the individual timbres that were Kyoya and Tamaki's voices. Having been at the Host Club for a long–enough period of time and having had enough conversations with Tamaki and Kyoya, both separately and together, Haruhi thought she was a good judge of if it was their voices or not.

"Oh, God," she blurted out, her knees knocking together, just as Tamaki shouted out the exact same thing in the other room. Giving up completely, she dropped the tea set and fled, determined to put as much distance between herself and Music Room #3 as possible.

Hikaru glanced around and frowned. "That's another tea set," he muttered thoughtfully. "Kyoya isn't going to be happy."

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The members of the Host Club were far too close to simply be friends, if their relationships outside of their 'work' were anything to go by. Tamaki and Kyoya had, perhaps, one of the oldest friendships in the Host Club, and they were therefore very well acquainted with each other, as was demonstrated by Tamaki's habit of referring to Kyoya as the 'mother' of the group.

And that friendship included, but was not limited to, very simply: sex.

And Haruhi had been unfortunate enough to walk into the room adjacent to one of their little sessions, when, in fact, Tamaki was still quite infatuated with her and that was the last thing he would've wanted. Kyoya couldn't have cared less, and was wholly focused on his current task, the one that didn't involve his black book or a calculator.

Tamaki was splayed beneath him, flawless skin covered in sweat, his hair sticking up in damp clumps. His hands were clenching at the sheets below him, muscles strained and stiff, as he moved with Kyoya. The dark-haired man was sitting astride him, arms braced against the headboard of the bed they were using, and was driving into Tamaki with as much force as he could muster. Tamaki was the more vocal of the two, and with every thrust, he would let out a moan or a gasp or even, occasionally, an, 'Oh, God!'

Sex was more of an ordeal that Kyoya liked, but he sometimes enjoyed it – for instance, right now. The sensation of Tamaki, clenched and hot around him, and his voice, raised in pleasure...Kyoya took a deep breath and leant down to claim a kiss, which Tamaki offered without hesitation. Their lips clashed, out of sync, and yet all the more passionate for that, and their tongues tangled, Tamaki breaking off first to grasp for some oxygen, and Kyoya following suit after kissing down to Tamaki's tensed neck, the tang of sweat tingling on his tongue.

Kyoya changed the angle in which he was pushing in and abruptly hit a sweet-spot inside Tamaki, one he hadn't come across before. Tamaki arched his back and let out a short scream, eyes fluttering closed as the ecstasy made him see stars.

"T-Tamaki," Kyoya whispered, low and sweet, as he continued moving, in and out, in and out, picking up the pace, not caring that the bed was currently smashing into the wall and creating a hell of a lot of noise. The others had heard it all before, they'd understand; maybe they'd even ask to borrow the bedroom when they were done.

Tamaki raised his arms somewhat shakily, his hands scrabbling for purchase on Kyoya's shoulders as he was mercilessly pounded into. The whole bed was moving with them now, mattress and all, and Kyoya thanked Ouran Academy for having such sturdy furniture.

"Kyoya – _oh_!" Tamaki let out a shrill scream as release finally washed over him, tightening his grip on Kyoya's skin and almost completely draining his strength. Kyoya followed not soon afterwards, his head bent and his whole body shaking as the arousal intensified into a blinding wave of pleasure. When he finally regained proper control of his senses, he found Tamaki was lazily stroking his hair, his thumb moving in smooth circles on his scalp. When he saw Kyoya was able to respond, he pulled him down for another kiss, this one slower and deeper that before, electric with post-orgasm charge.

Cuddling was overrated, but Tamaki liked to do it anyway, and Kyoya always owed him for even agreeing to do it in the first place that he felt obligated to do the cuddling thing. So he slid his arms underneath Tamaki and pulled him closer, their naked bodies still heated, and buried his face in Tamaki's neck, breathing in the familiar smell of sweat and Tamaki's trademark shampoo.

"Mmm," the blonde-haired boy moaned, gently rubbing his hand along Kyoya's back. "That was amazing..."

"I agree," Kyoya replied softly, pressing his lips to Tamaki's shoulder.

Just then, there was an unromantic banging on the door, courtesy of Hikaru. "Hey, Tamaki!" he shouted, very stubbornly not vaporising on the spot despite Kyoya's intense wishes. "I think you'd better know that Haruhi came in while you two were banging."

Tamaki shot upwards, his face completely white. "_WHAT_?!"

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**Plot you say? Real-life situation you say? Be satisfied, I say. **

**Sorry, it's not that good. But otherwise that Latin plot bunny wouldn't have left me alone. You understand my predicament. **


End file.
